A World of My Creation
by fweakin' awesome
Summary: Wilder-Wonka. Let's forget about Charlie for a while. How about Charlotte instead? Eventual Wonka-OC, but I'm taking my sweet old time getting there. Enjoy the K rating for now, it will change at the end. Reviews equal love! CHAP 2 UP! Enjoy!
1. Charlotte and the Golden Ticket

**Author's Note: Okay, fasten your seat belts! I believe this is my best fan fiction yet (so far)! Very excited to see what you guys think of it. This is my first Wonka fiction. Will be eventual Wonka x OC pairing. **

**This is a Wilder-Wonka, because I was scanning through the collection of fictions about CatCH and was appalled at the lack of Gene Wilder versions. Ugh!**

**Summary: Let's forget about Charlie. How about Charlotte instead? When Charlotte (called Charlie by most) discovers the Fifth Golden Ticket, she doesn't know she's opening the door to love, friendship, and a ton of chocolate. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I never would have remade the movie. IMHO, the 1971 version with Gene Wilder was the best, and it should have remained that way. Gene Wilder, I think, kept the innocence and sweetness of the character. Johnny Depp kinda played him weird, made him into this eccentric guy who looks scary. Sorry to any blatant Depp shippers, but it's not my style. No flames, please. **

The sky was gray and overcast, barely shedding any light on the grimy streets of London. Dirty snow filtered down from the muddy sky, melting slowly on the dirty sidewalks, leaving a slushy, freezing mixture on everything. Traffic was slow, and the few pedestrians who were out and about at this time of the evening were even slower. Icy winds blew gently at coat hems, tearing at faces and leaving them ruddy with the cold. Everything was slippery and coated in ice-cold slush. People stayed inside on such a day, trying not to think about the terrible weather outside. The only person visible on the whole sidewalk was a girl, and hardly a girl you'd notice unless she raised her eyes to look at you. Her hair was black and pulled back in a messy braid that descended down to the middle of her back. A pair of striking green eyes were hidden behind a set of naturally thick, dark lashes. Freckles danced across her cheeks and nose, spattering themselves like droplets of mud. Her figure was hidden behind a bulky, tattered green coat that had patches on both of the elbows. A pair of denim jeans were frayed at the ends, and her boots were slit all the way around, to make room for her toes.

A package was clutched under her arm, half-hidden under her coat to protect it from the bitter elements. It contained two dozen newspapers, all to be sold by this afternoon, otherwise it would come out of her meager paycheck. She glanced around half-heartedly, finally tearing her bright green eyes from the worn sidewalks in search of people to sell her newspapers to. Her gaze fell on a pair of wrought-iron gates, painted black with a fresh coat of paint. Behind it stood a majestic factory, with pipes and such protruding from the high roof. The front doors were beautiful mahogany, not unlike the doors you would expect on a palace or a castle. The girl closed her eyes, tilting her chin backwards and concentrating on the scents that passed by her. At first, all she smelled was the familiar smell of rancid garbage, the depressing aroma of wet paper (from her newspapers, which were damp despite her best efforts to keep them dry), and the heady scent of fried fish that came from a fish and chips shop down the street.

Then it passed her, briefly tickling her senses, no more then the faintest whiff. A slight smell of melting chocolate, so dark and rich you could practically taste it. She sniffed harder, trying to inhale as much of the dizzying smell as she could, gulping down chocolate-spiked air like a fine perfume. The girl caught no more of the heavenly smell, and she opened her bright green eyes, disappointed. Then she caught a glimpse of something moving behind a curtained window. A tall figure twitched aside the curtain just a crack, and a mixture of hope and fear rose in her chest. She hurried away, thinking that he would call the police for vandalism; she was, after all, a teenager hanging around by his gates.

Her mission of selling damp newspapers forgotten, she trudged home, her boots making deep scraping noises on the sidewalk. Dark hair gleaming wetly in the dim evening light, she lowered her eyes to the sidewalk again and began her slow journey home, which was over two miles away. On her way, she managed to sell two newspapers to a young couple who felt sorry for the ragged-looking girl who was standing out in the freezing rain, trying to sell newspapers that were damp and sticking together with moisture.

*%*%*%*%*

She opened the door, and the warmth hit her like a wall. It was very chilly in the Bucket household, but compared to the icy sleet outside, it was positively balmy. The girl shrugged off her patched green coat and hung it on a sagging hook by the door, and kicked off her cut-open boots as well. Her socks were bright red and her toes poked through the ends, showing little toes that were bright pink with cold. She rubbed her hands together briskly, then along her arms, trying to get some warmth back into her body. The girl went into the main room, where her four grandparents and her two parents were all sitting, talking in low voices about nothing in particular.

Mrs. Bucket looked up from her knitting and smiled a tired, weary smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she saw her only daughter standing in the doorway, tired, wet and cold. Mrs. Bucket's hair had originally been light brown, but years of sporadic food and the strain of limited finances had wisps of gray mixed in among the lightening brown hair. She beckoned to her daughter to come over.

"Charlotte, you're all wet," she scolded with no real heart in it. Everybody knew that Charlotte (everyone called her Charlie) was a good, solid teenager. Charlie had yet to get into trouble like all of the other teenagers her age.

"Yeah, I got caught in the sleet coming home," Charlie admitted, dropping a perfunctory kiss on her mother's head. She smiled at her father, who was asleep in a rickety armchair that was positioned near the fireplace, which contained only dying embers.

Grandma Josephine blinked sleepily, rousing herself from her doze. "Charlie, did you bring home the groceries?" she croaked from the left side of the bed.

"Quiet, Josie, she only just got home. Let the child warm up." Grandma Georgina chided. Josephine made a face at her sister-in-law.

"Don't call me Josie. And she was told to bring the groceries," Josephine whined.

Charlie stepped between the two of them and dropped the paper sack of groceries on the bed. "Yes, I brought the groceries," she said quietly, hushing the two of them. The sister-in-laws were always squabbling over petty little things.

Grandpa George rummaged through the paper sack and brought out the meager groceries, which included a quart of milk, a loaf of bread, and half a dozen eggs. At the bottom he found the receipt and scanned it, a little smile forming on his craggy features. "You bought a Wonka bar," he said. Charlie blushed.

"I had seventy-nine cents left over," Charlie said ruefully. "Mom said I could as long as I had enough money."

"We don't mind you getting a candy bar, _do we, Josephine_?" Grandpa Joe said, emphasizing the last few words. Josephine closed her mouth with a snap. She turned her nose in the air and sniffed.

"I was only going to say the girl will ruin her dinner," she said waspishly.

"We don't have much of a dinner," Mrs. Bucket said sadly. Charlie shrugged.

"I'm not really hungry, anyway. I had a big lunch at school." Charlie said, talking loudly to hide the rumble her stomach gave. Luckily, it looked like no one had noticed. "Anyway, I have a lot of homework to do. I love you guys." she said, waving good bye to her grandparents.

When Charlie was safely upstairs in her creaky attic bedroom, Mrs. Bucket sighed wearily. "I wish we had enough money to get her something nice for her birthday," she said.

"She's never asked for anything," Josephine pointed out.

"That's because Charlie has a heart of gold," Joe said quietly. "She deserves a palace."

"Charlie's going to be seventeen!" Georgina exclaimed. "It seems like only yesterday she was tugging on my nightgown, looking for a sweet."

"She does like those Wonka bars," George said. "Oh, I know she tries to hide it, but I think they're her favorite thing to eat."

"Who doesn't like chocolate?" Josephine sniffed.

They all sighed and went back to watching the tiny black-and-white TV that was perched on the top of a wobbly table. Mrs. Bucket wiped her eyes on her knitting. Charlie's birthday would be coming up in two weeks, and the only thing they could afford to give her would be a Wonka bar wrapped up in newspaper. Charlie would be delighted, she knew, but a girl like Charlie deserved better then that. Joe was right. She deserved a palace.

Charlie leaned up against the brick wall of the candy shop, a tear slipping out of her eye. She had seen today, on television, the famous Fifth Golden Ticket article. It had been found, by a man named Hajjer Jamed, who lived somewhere in Egypt. Curiously enough, he was the only adult finder of the Golden Tickets; psychologists said it was because children had more determination. Charlie had seen the four other children on the news that morning, and another tear slipped down her face as she thought about them. They were all spoiled, greedy, selfish and gluttonous…but, they had something she didn't apparently.

There was Veruca Salt, that spoiled rich girl who had everything a girl could dream for. Her face was an uninteresting shade of dark brown, and her thin white face was pinched in a perpetual sneer. Her daddy owned a very successful peanut business, (Salt's Salted Peanuts) and had more money then he knew what to do with, hence Veruca's state of whininess. The wretched girl had squealed all throughout the interview, making Charlie want to clap her hands over her ears.

Augustus Gloop was a fat German boy who was almost constantly eating. His large belly proceeded him, wobbling like a pile of Jell-o. At the time of the interview, he had chocolate smeared messily across his mouth, and his words were indistinguishable between his heavy German accent and the mouthful of sweets he had in his mouth. His mother had answered the questions mostly, proudly saying that her child had eaten two hundred and sixteen candy bars before finding the Golden Ticket.

Mike Teevee, a small boy with spiky brown hair and glazed blue eyes that were always fixated on a TV screen. He had a cowboy hat askew on his tiny head when they were asking questions, and he kept waving his hands and telling the reporters to scram, he was watching his favorite show. He also had two fake guns which he blasted at the television set during the dramatic parts.

Then there was Violet Beauregarde, a gum-snapping, fast-talking little girl who babbled on and on about how long she had chewed her gum. It was kind of disgusting, seeing how much of the gray gum she had crammed in her mouth. But she kept blowing bubbles and snapping the gum loudly, chattering about nothing in particular.

Charlie sighed and cuffed the tears from her eyes. She had no right to cry, really. She had only opened two Wonka bars, and the likelihood of the Fifth Golden Ticket being contained in one of them was a million to one. But Charlie couldn't help but cry. A lifetime of chocolate - what could be better then that? And she had longed to see inside the great factory. She stopped by there every day, trying to catch another whiff of the glorious chocolate, wishing she could bask in the heavenly goodness. Like any seventeen year old, Charlie couldn't get enough of the sugary, creamy, rich chocolate that was so distinctly Wonka.

She began walking home slowly, her head hanging, ignoring the large group of people who were talking animatedly around a portable radio. Charlie couldn't hear what was being said on the radio over the din, but it didn't matter. Probably new information about this Hajjer person. She couldn't bear hearing more about the fabulous Golden Tickets.

As she walked, something glittered in the gutter. She stepped off the sidewalk and saw…to her utter amazement…a ten pound note! Her pervious gloom vanished as she thought of all the groceries she could buy with ten pounds. It would be enough to buy some tea for Mrs. Bucket, and a loaf of whole-wheat bread, both of which were almost unheard of luxuries. Then a thought struck Charlie. What did it matter if the Golden Tickets had been found? The store still carried Wonka chocolate; and even if there weren't any Golden Tickets to be had, the chocolate would still taste good.

Charlie ran inside the store and slapped the ten pound note down on the counter breathlessly, her cheeks pink, her black hair tangled and curls of it framing her pretty face. The plump storekeeper gave a jolly laugh at the sight of her so excited. "And what can I get you, Miss Charlotte?" he asked politely.

"A Wonka bar, please, Mr. Jeffrey," she said, still a little out of breath from her impulsive run. He laughed again.

"You're lucky we're not sold out. I guess the kids haven't heard about the scandal yet," he said, going behind the counter and retrieving a garishly-wrapped Wonka bar.

"Scandal?" Charlie asked. The shopkeeper handed her the Wonka bar.

"Yes. Apparently that fellow in Egypt was just faking. He didn't have a golden ticket at all. The Fifth Golden Ticket is still out there, somewhere." The shopkeeper said, looking wistfully at the boxes of unopened chocolate. Then he gave a little chuckle.

"Go on, enjoy your chocolate, Charlie. Maybe you'll get lucky." he said, passing over the pile of change. Charlie stared at the heap of coins in her hands, then extracted seventy nine cents.

"Maybe just _one_ more," she said, beginning to unwrap her first Wonka bar. The shopkeeper passed one over with a broad grin. _Why not,_ Charlie reasoned. _It's still out there. Maybe I will get lucky._

She ripped off the foil uncertainly, trepidation written in every line of her face. When it revealed the smooth brown bar of chocolate, she gave an inward sigh of disappointment. Charlie sank her teeth into it, relishing the sweet taste, but her heart ached with longing. She had wanted that Golden Ticket so badly…

When her first bar was finished, she went outside with the other chocolate bar tucked into her pocket. She got halfway down the street when curiosity got the better of her, and she tore off the purple foil slowly.

Was that…

A glimmer of…

Gold?

Charlie threw the purple foil away and saw the stiff Golden Ticket in her chapped hand. Disbelief swept through her, so strong that for an instant she considered throwing it away. But when she saw the words: **Congratulations! You are the winner of the 5****th**** Golden Ticket!** Charlie screamed with delight. The knot of people who were listening to the radio looked over, and Charlie waved the gold piece of paper in the air, shouting with excitement.

"I found it! I found the Fifth Golden Ticket!" she shrieked, and was instantly surrounded by the crowd of people, all of them congratulating her. These people had known Charlie for years, but in her blur of happiness she couldn't recognize any of the familiar faces. She was so happy, so _excited_. She was one of only _five people _that were going to be able to tour Willy Wonka's famous Chocolate Factory! It was too wonderful for words.

She raced down the streets, heedless of people in her way as she barreled past them. They all saw the flash of gold and assumed the best, and began crying out their congratulations as she stumbled down the street. Charlie barely acknowledged them; all she had eyes for was the road ahead, the road that led to her home. Wait until Grandpa Joe heard about this!

Hastily, she turned a corner sharply and went down a narrow alley. It was dark and dripping, but she was still reeling in shock, so she didn't notice the tall figure looming behind her until it clamped a hand on her shoulder. Charlie screamed again, this time in fear, and whirled around, her green eyes wide with panic. Standing in front of her was an impossibly tall, thin man with beady black eyes and a thin, cruel sneer on his sallow face.

"Congratulations, little girl," he said. His voice was a sinister rasp. "You've found the Fifth Golden Ticket. However did you manage it?"

Charlie swallowed hard, trying to wet her dry mouth. "Uh…just got lucky, I s-suppose." she stammered. He gave her another thin smile.

"Yes…you got lucky. Now, Miss Charlotte, I'm going to make you a deal. You and your family live in that poor little shack at the end of the street, hmm? How would you like to have more money then you could ever want? Wouldn't that be nice? Yes, it would be. Now, all you have to do is get me one piece of candy. Just one piece. When you go into Willy Wonka's factory, you need to get me one Everlasting Gobstopper, and give it to me. Then you and your family will be rich beyond your wildest dreams!" he said smoothly, smiling that feral, vicious smile.

She stepped back, choking. He gave her one more sinister smile and left in a swirl of his black frock coat. Charlie's stomach heaved unpleasantly. It had all happened so fast! She didn't know what to think. One piece of candy? Why? Willy Wonka made the most fabulous candy - ice cream that never melted, gum that blew bubbles so large you had to pop them with a pin, rainbow candies that you could eat and then spit in six different colors - so it only made sense that this man wanted to make the Everlasting Gobstoppers for himself. And he needed Charlie to get it.

Her strong sense of truth flared. Why should she? She would have a lifetime of chocolate to sustain her and her family. But then again, that was an awful lot of money…Charlie shook her head and started walking the rest of the way home to tell her parents and her grandparents the good news.

Charlie stood on one foot, straining anxiously to see over the throbbing masses of crowds. There was so much noise - cheering, whistling, clapping, whooping, and reporters babbling questions in her ear that she couldn't hear anything else but a monotonous din. The crush of people lessened slightly, and Grandpa Joe moved Charlie forward, and Charlie found herself in the back of a short line that consisted of the four other Golden Ticket holders. She got a good look at Veruca's shiny new dress and Violet's bright knee socks, and felt a little flutter of shame in her stomach. Charlie had dressed in her nicest clothes, which was a white blouse that was rolled up to the elbow and a pair of jeans that had only one patch. Mrs. Bucket had splurged and bought her a secondhand gold headband which pushed back her curly black hair except for a few stray curls that framed her face. Josephine and Georgina had worked together for once and had washed and embroidered one of Mrs. Bucket's old messenger bags. Before she had left, she thought she looked pretty. Now she felt shabby and thoroughly secondhand.

The reporters quieted as the mahogany doors opened, and a tall, lean man stepped out. Charlie gasped. Could it possibly be the same person who had watched her as she smelled chocolate by the Wonka factory gates? The man slowly advanced, leaning heavily on a thin gold walking stick and favoring his right leg. Nobody had seen Wonka in almost ten years. Was it possible that the young man was lame?

A few steps before he reached the silent crowd, his walking stick got stuck in the paving stones. He fell forward slowly, then performed a neat somersault and landed on his feet in front of the crowd with a smile on his handsome features. Charlie stood on tiptoe to see him, but she still couldn't see him very well. She made out a purple-colored frock coat and brown top hat, but that was all. The applause deafened her as the gates swung open and Willy Wonka skipped merrily out, a grin flitting about his features.

Veruca shoved her way to the front of the line and held out her Golden Ticket. Wonka took it and slid it quickly into his sleeve. "You must be Mr. Salt," he said, shaking Mr. Salt's hand furiously. "Love your peanuts, Mr. Salt. I use them occasionally in my Triple-Whipple-Coated Deluxe Wonka bars. And this must be dear little Veruca." he said, glancing at Veruca fondly. She sneered at him.

"I'm not _dear little Veruca_! I'm fifteen! Call me Miss Salt. And Daddy - don't shake his hand. It's probably all sticky from chocolate making." Veruca said snobbishly, sweeping past a rather baffled Wonka with the spoiled air of a princess. Mr. Salt awkwardly tipped his hat at the candy man and followed his daughter inside the gates.

"And you must be Mrs. Gloop," Wonka said, shaking Mrs. Gloop's hand. "This well-fed boy must be Augustus," he added, shaking Augustus's hand as well. Augustus patted his stomach.

"I'm hungry!" he whined, his voice masked under a thick German accent. Mrs. Gloop politely shoved him forward, muttering that they would get something to eat as soon as they got inside. Wonka tipped his top hat to them and shook Mr. Beauregard's hand.

"Spiffing, Mr. Beauregard. I saw all of your commercials." Wonka said cheerfully. Mr. Beauregard started chattering about his car salesman business, and Wonka listened politely for a few moments then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And this delightful little girl must be Violet," he said.

"What kinda gum yah got?" Violet mumbled around a mouthful of previously mentioned sticky candy. Wonka didn't appear to have heard, and merely patted Violet's head absently.

"Mr. Teevee, charmed," Wonka said, shaking Mr. Teevee's hand. Mike Teevee blasted Wonka with his pistols.

"Bam! You're dead!" Mike squealed in a nasally voice. Wonka clutched his stomach and pretended to fall over, then smiled as he saw Charlie hanging onto Grandpa Joe's hand shyly.

"And you must be Charlotte," he said in a quieter voice. Now that he was close to her, Charlie could see that he was young, handsome, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes that were everywhere at once. She shook his hand and a little smile quirked the side of her mouth.

"Yes, Mr. Wonka, I am, but everybody calls me Charlie," she said. "And this is Grandpa Joe."

Grandpa Joe shook Wonka's hand vigorously and Wonka offered his arm to Charlie, who took it with a blush and a smile. Violet pouted and stamped her foot when she saw Mr. Wonka arm and arm with Charlie, and demanded to her father that _she_ wanted to go in the front with Mr. Wonka. Mr. Salt obtained a slight deafness at that moment, and followed Mr. Wonka and Charlie into the Chocolate Factory.


	2. The Chocolate Room

**Authors Note: This is the second installment of my Wonka x OC fan fiction. Hope you like. Oh yeah, and someone kindly pointed out that Willy Wonka isn't young, he's old. Well, in this story, I adjusted both of their ages to fix the awkward problem of a 40 year old dating a 11 year old. So therefore, a 25 year old dating a 17 year old is slightly less awkward. At least in my mind it is. Oh yeah, and I made him less eccentric, a little more normal. Deal wid it. XD **

**Oh, and I do realize I didn't make it "Mrs. Teevee". I forgot, considering I haven't watched the movie in almost five years. Anyway, I can't change it. So just pretend Mike Teevee came here with his dad instead of his mom, okay?**

**Summary: Charlie explores the Factory with Willy Wonka, and Wonka starts to appreciate how pretty this unusual girl is. **

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own it. Ronald Dahl does. **

Charlie liked being arm and arm with Willy Wonka. This was the first famous person she had met, and he was…well, handsome. His gold curls framed his handsome face and he strode alone the colorful hallways with a youthful vigor that was infectious. He was tall, taller then Charlie, and this was aided by the black boots he wore. Charlie scooted herself closer to Mr. Wonka as they arrived at a small, circular room that had a huge piece of paper on the only piece of furniture in the room, which was a small, sturdy table. The paper was very long, and trailed on the ground, but there was something different about it. At the beginning, the print was very large, but when you went all the way down to the bottom the print was miniscule.

Mr. Wonka released himself from Charlie, and skipped over to the paper. He picked up a large fluffy quill pen and handed it to Veruca, who had once again shoved her way to the front of the line. "Sign here, dear girl." he said.

"Wait a second, Veruca!" Mr. Salt said, pushing his way up to the front. "Don't sign anything unless you've read it first!"

"Why?" Veruca said scornfully. "I'll sign whatever I want. Don't tell me what to do, Daddy." She signed the paper with a flourish, and handed the pen back to Mr. Wonka with a simpering smile. He nodded brusquely at her and handed the pen to Violet.

"Vi, don't sign it!" Mr. Beauregard ordered. "What exactly do you want her to sign, Wonka?" he demanded. Mr. Wonka smiled that cheerful, happy smile that Charlie was beginning to like very much. He winked at Mr. Beauregard.

"Oh, just a little contract," he said airily, trying to get Violet to sign the paper. Mr. Beauregard balled his fists and jutted his head forward defiantly. Charlie was suddenly reminded of an angry bull.

"Don't tell me about contracts, Wonka. I work with them all the time. Contracts are strictly for suckers." he snapped. Charlie almost laughed aloud, but Mr. Beauregard's face was so red and angry she didn't.

"Daddy, I'll be fine," Violet said around a mouthful of gum. She signed it in a messy scrawl, and Mr. Wonka whisked the pen away from her quickly and handed it to Augustus. He signed it without saying a word. Charlie decided that Augustus preferred eating to talking.

Mike Teevee had to put down his guns to sign the paper, which made him complain for a moment, but he signed it all the same, then went back to blasting the wall with his popguns. Charlie picked up the pen hesitantly, then glanced at Grandpa Joe. "Nothing bad will happen, will it?" she whispered in his ear. He shook his head. Charlie signed it carefully, feeling very much as though she were signing her life away.

"Excellent! Well, off to the rest of the factory!" Mr. Wonka exclaimed brightly. He spun around and hurried over to a small door. Charlie started to follow him, but Veruca pushed past her with a nasty smile on her face.

"He doesn't like _you_, peasant girl," Veruca hissed in Charlie's ear. "He ought to be friends with _me_." Charlie almost stopped in her tracks, stung by Veruca's harsh comment. She blinked hard and continued, her head lowered again in her traditional submissive stance. Grandpa Joe recognized this and wondered what that nasty Veruca brat had said.

They all crowded into another small room, and this time is was barely enough room to fit all of them. Actually, it really wasn't enough room to fit them all, and Charlie found herself quite lost from Grandpa Joe in the center of the crowd. She looked around, startled, and was about to call his name when she felt a presence behind her, and she glanced upwards. Mr. Wonka was behind her, very close, and Charlie realized she was practically pressed against his chest. She blushed furiously, and tried to move away, but the crush of the small room kept her from moving.

"The room is getting smaller!" Mike Teevee cried, his voice filled with panic.

"Don't be silly, Mike, we're getting _bigger_," Mr. Teevee said sarcastically.

"We'll be crushed!" Mr. Salt shouted.

"Where's the chocolate?" Augustus asked in his thick voice.

"There isn't any chocolate! We'll be lucky to get out of here alive!" Mr. Beauregard said loudly.

Mr. Wonka seemed unperturbed by all the fuss, and merely waited for it to reach a crescendo. Then he sighed and made his way towards the door they had just came into. "Why, look," he said, pushing open the door. "Here we are."

"Don't be a blasted fool, Wonka, that's the door we just came into!" Mr. Salt barked angrily. They filed outside, fully expecting to be in the small room with the contract again, but instead they were in a long, narrow hallway. They all gasped.

"What is this, a funhouse?" Mr. Teevee grumbled.

"Surprises around every corner. Nothing dangerous, I assure you," Mr. Wonka said reassuringly. Charlie tried to make her way back to Mr. Wonka's side but Veruca beat her out. Charlie saw her nestled next to the handsome chocolatier, and her heart burned with jealousy.

Wonka turned around suddenly, and they all leaned forward to hear what he said. Charlie squirmed her way to the front. "Now, we're about to enter the very heart of my factory," he said in a low, secretive voice. "No tasting, no touching, no telling."

"No telling?" Violet asked.

"There are secrets in here that nobody's ever seen before. Old Slugworth would give his false front teeth to be in here for five minutes," Wonka explained. "So, like I said…what you see here, stays here. Got it? Excellent!" he opened the door without anybody agreeing with him.

They all gaped at the scene before them.

A carpet of grass rippled down over a small, man-made hill. A set of lavender colored stairs wound lazily down to a dirty brown river, flanked on either side by candy canes. Bushes of all colors and shapes dotted the grass, which was too brightly green to be real. Huge gummy bears were grouped together, each of them the size of your fist. Gold trees were heavy with candy apples and toffee, and a large boulder appeared to be made of solid chocolate. There was the heavy, continuous sound of rushing water coming from somewhere, most likely the dirty river, which had large pipes scattered in it, and they were all sucking up the dark water quickly.

Mr. Wonka began to descend the stairs slowly, swinging his cane out every few steps, halting them teasingly. He began to sing softly, almost to himself, but Charlie could hear every word. His voice was pure and strong, a soft, silky purr that Charlie longed to hear more of.

"Come with me And you'll be In a world of Pure imagination Take a look And you'll see Into your imagination."Charlie followed the path wonderingly, ignoring the rest of the children who were whooping and shrieking excitedly. They appeared to not notice the soft song that Mr. Wonka was singing, but Charlie wished he would continue forever. Grandpa Joe was munching a huge yellow gummy bear happily, despite his false teeth, and Charlie smiled at her mentor and best friend. She eyed a large gold tree that was dangling large candy apples that were tantalizingly out of reach. She stretched on tiptoe to reach for one but couldn't quite reach it.

"We'll begin With a spin Traveling in **The world of my creation** What we'll see Will defy Explanation."

Mr. Wonka watched her reach for the candy apple, singing quietly to himself. She had a superior look to the others, despite her ragged appearance. He knew very well that looks were deceiving. She was so pretty - not a flaunting, haughty kind of pretty like Veruca, or a bubbly, cheerful like of cute like Violet, she was a quiet, careful kind of beauty. Her long black hair rippled over her shoulders and was tamed slightly with a gold headband that kept most of the black curls from her face, but a handful of them had escaped, and they framed her face prettily. He approached her and plucked an candy apple from the tree and handed it to her. She blushed lightly and thanked him. Charlie bit it happily, tasting the sweet, crunchy treat that she had only eaten once.

"If you want to view paradise Simply look around and view it Anything you want to, do it Want to change the world? There's nothing To it ."

Charlie blushed as Mr. Wonka gave her the apple courteously, and she watched him meander away, still humming to himself. He was very handsome, and perfectly at ease with the world. She watched him interact with the other children, and her heart fluttered. He was certainly handsome…she shook herself mentally. He was a world-famous chocolatier, and she was a peasant girl who lived in a shack. They couldn't mix. It was like oil and water. Or chocolate and…no, never mind. Almost everything went well with chocolate.

She went over to the river and knelt down, examining it. Charlie had been hoping to see through the dirty water and into the bottom, where some fish might be, but it was too dirty to see anyway. Then a thought struck her. The heady aroma of chocolate had not left - if anything, it intensified - and the nagging idea wouldn't go away. She was about to dip a finger in the river when she heard Mr. Salt's loud voice right behind her.

"Why, Wonka, you've ruined your river. Industrial waste, is it?" he said officially. Wonka smiled and twirled his cane nonchalantly, a pleasant smile on his face. Charlie got up and narrowed her eyes.

"It's chocolate," she said suddenly. "Pure chocolate."

Wonka beamed at her. "Absolutely right, dear girl! It appears you have a brain in your head - such a useful thing!" he said. She blushed again.

"Chocolate? Ridiculous." Mr. Beauregard bristled.

"Oh yes. And my chocolate river is the only one that is mixed by waterfall." he said. Then he bent down and whispered in Charlie's ear, "That's the only way to get it just right, you know." Charlie smiled at him and he nudged her towards the river.

"Why, look!" Violet cried. "It's a little man!"

"Nonsense," Mr. Salt said. "There can't be anyone that small."

"But he _is_," Charlie said. "Look!"

It was true; there was a little orange-faced man testing the chocolate on the opposite side of the river. He was impossibly small, only about three feet high, and rather roly-poly. His hair was green and sticking up every which way, and he had a somber expression on his face.

"What _are_ they?" Charlie asked Mr. Wonka in a hushed whisper. He winked at her.

"Oompa Loompas," he said proudly. Charlie's eyebrows met in a confused embrace. He laughed, that merry, cheerful laugh and explained himself.

"From Loompaland," he said. Mr. Teevee interrupted angrily.

"Loompaland? Stuff and nonsense! There isn't such a place!"

"Now, see here, my dear fellow - " Mr. Wonka began.

"I am a teacher of geography, Mr. Wonka." Mr. Teevee said. Mr. Wonka looked delighted.

"Oh, well, then you know all about it and what a terrible country it is. Nothing but desolate wastes and fierce beasts. And the poor little Oompa Loompas were so small and helpless, they would get gobbled up right and left. A Wangdoodle would eat ten of them for breakfast and think nothing of it. And so, I said, "Come and live with me in peace and safety, away from all the Wangdoodles, and Hornswogglers, and Snozzwangers, and rotten, Vermicious Knids." Mr. Wonka said earnestly. Charlie giggled, and he winked surreptitiously at her.

"Snozzwangers? Vermicious Knids? What kind of rubbish is that?" Mr. Salt asked disdainfully.

"I'm sorry, my dear man, but all questions _must_ be submitted in writing. And so, in the greatest of secrecy, I transported the entire population of Oompa Loompas to my factory." Mr. Wonka said. Charlie's eyes grew wide.

"Daddy, I want an Oompa Loompa!" Veruca squealed. "I want an Oompa Loompa right _now_!"

"All right, darling. I'll get you an Oompa Loompa before the day is out," Mr. Salt said soothingly. Veruca stamped her foot in frustration and a childish display of a tantrum.

'"I want an Oompa Loompa right _now_!" she shrieked. Violet turned to her, an annoyed expression on her face.

"Can it, you nit!" Violet snapped. Veruca looked as though she'd been slapped.

Luckily, before either of the girls could start fighting, Charlie cried out "Look! Over there, by the river! Look what Augustus is doing!"

Augustus was on his knees slurping chocolate. Mr. Wonka whirled around. "Augustus, don't! My river must not be touched by human hands!" he cried, distraught.

He ignored him and continued to devour as much of the chocolate as he could. Then he reached out just a little too far, the center of gravity dancing just beyond his pudgy nose…

_SPLASH!_

"Oh, help, help!" he screamed waving his arms. Mrs. Gloop rushed over, shrieking.

"Save him! Save my Augustus! Oh, my poor baby! Call the police! Call the fire department!" she called. Wonka yawned.

"Help. Police." he said unenthusiastically. Charlie laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. He glanced at her - sure enough, that little smile was quirking the side of her mouth, creating a dimple in the middle of her freckled cheek. He was seized with an insane desire to make her laugh again, just so he could see that dimple.

They all watched as Augustus was carried downstream, then got caught in the whirlpool near a pipe. He got sucked upwards quickly, but because of his bulk he got stuck halfway up. Between Augustus's carrying cries and Mrs. Gloop's hysterical wailing, Charlie could barely hear herself think.

"Oh, my poor baby! He cannot swim!" Mrs. Gloop cried.

'Well, there isn't any better time to learn, is there?" Mr. Wonka said brightly. Charlie threw him a nasty look as Mrs. Gloop's cries intensified.

"Mrs. Gloop! Please, I know you're upset, but I'm sure Augustus will be fine. Right, Mr. Wonka?" she asked. Mr. Wonka nodded.

"Oh yes. Augustus will be fine. Unfortunately, he will be carried off to the Fudge Room." he added. Mrs. Gloop continued to wail.

"Oh, my baby will be made into marshmallows!" she cried, her accent thicker and more pronounced. Mr. Wonka frowned.

"Of course not. That's preposterous." he said. Mrs. Gloop raised her head.

"Why not?" Charlie wanted to know.

"Because the Fudge Room isn't anywhere near the Marshmallow room." he said cheerfully. Mrs. Gloop began to cry again, and he sighed. "Oh dear."

He turned to the Oompa Loompas that were standing nearby and waved his hand distractedly. "Please escort Mrs. Gloop up to the Fudge Room, if you please," he said. His voice carried a slight order, but a subtle one. Charlie caught it - she wasn't sure if anyone else did - but didn't care.

The orange-faced servants bowed deeply and led the way down the hall towards another small door marked STAIRS. Apparently the Fudge Room was quite high up. Charlie's trademark smile quirked the side of her mouth again as she thought of the chubby Mrs. Gloop trudging up all of those stairs. Mr. Wonka saw it and was pleased that he made her smile again. It was addictive, really, making that girl smile.

"Well, then, shall we move on?" Mr. Wonka said pleasantly. They all followed him down the river where they saw a bright pink yacht docked peacefully on the stream. It bobbed up and down with the movement of the river and the ropes looked as though they were made of candy floss. Orange-faced Oompa Loompas were standing at the oars, serious expression on their carrot-colored faces.

"Nice little canoe you got there, Wonka," Mr. Salt said approvingly.

"All I ask for is a tall ship and a star to sail her by. All aboard!" Mr. Wonka called.

"Ladies first and that means Veruca," Mr. Salt said sternly.

"If she's a lady, I'm a Snozzwanger," Grandpa Joe whispered to Charlie. She laughed.

Mr. Wonka stepped aside and allowed the rest of the group to climb aboard first. When Grandpa Joe had passed, Charlie made to follow him but was stopped by Mr. Wonka's gold cane. He raised an eyebrow, watching that smile creep up the side of her mouth again. "Join me at the front, Charlie? That's the best seat, you know." he said. Charlie blushed and nodded, then sat next to the chocolatier at the front of the yacht.

The Oompa Loompas began rowing in smooth, steady strokes. They disappeared into a dark tunnel, lit only sporadically by multi-colored lights. By the faint glow of the purple, blue, green and red lights, Mr. Wonka could see the enraptured look on Charlie's face. She loved being here, just smelling all the chocolate and seeing how it was made. He filed this away for later.

The rowers sped up, and the boat rocked swiftly over the choppy waves of the stream. Veruca coughed unpleasantly. "Where are we going?" she asked nervously. Mr. Wonka smiled to himself.

"There's no knowing where we're going for the rowers keep on rowing, with no signs that they are slowing!" he cried happily. The boat went even faster, and Mr. Beauregard looked positively green. Colors and lights flashed around them, and Mr. Wonka felt Charlie gripping his elbow. For a mercifully short second, he wished the boat went even faster so she could cling to him tighter.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. They were at a small dock, and there was a plain metal door set into the wall. A signpost that was painted in a happy shade of yellow pointed in a dozen different directions. The Oompa Loompas pulled out a gangplank and they all shakily clambered out, all except for Charlie who looked up at Mr. Wonka delightedly.

"Thanks, Mr. Wonka! That was great!" she whispered in his ear. Mr. Wonka felt a blush rise to his cheeks and he smiled fondly at the eager teenager.

They all huddled around the plain door, and Grandpa Joe read the signpost. Charlie read it too, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"Vanilla cream…" Grandpa Joe said.

"Orange cream…" Charlie said.

"Whipping cream…"

"Hair cream?" They said together.

Mr. Wonka laughed, then turned serious as he faced the group. "All right, now, listen to me. Inside this place is the Invention Room, and is contains some very volatile candy inside. Do not taste anything. Got it?"

"What does 'volatile' mean?" Violet asked.

"Unpredictable and unsafe." Charlie answered. Mr. Wonka raised an approving eyebrow, then swung the door wide open.


End file.
